


Night Time Is Quiet Time

by saizoswifey



Category: SLBP - Fandom, Samurai Love Ballad Party - Fandom, Samurai Love Ballad: PARTY, 天下統一恋の乱 | Sakura Amidst Chaos | Samurai Love Ballad (Visual Novel)
Genre: Blood, Death, F/M, Gore, Murder, NSFW, Smut, mention of death of a young girl, unprotected sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-03
Updated: 2019-03-03
Packaged: 2019-11-08 09:59:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17979209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saizoswifey/pseuds/saizoswifey
Summary: Follow Saizo on one of his missions from Iga. From the day he leaves your side to the day he returns to the comfort of your embrace. A glimpse into the hardships that shape the shinobi, and the ways you help heal him.





	Night Time Is Quiet Time

**Author's Note:**

> For a while, I have wanted to write a series following Saizo on various missions. So often we see him leave and come back but never what he has to deal with while gone since he keeps it all hidden from MC. This is not exactly in chronological order of events, as you will see. It jumps around so I hope it is easy for you to follow! Thank you so much for reading!!

     Alone. He had found her there, alone—the young girl inside. Stashed like she was a mere sack of kitchen scraps, her bruised body carelessly tossed in a rocky crevice that lay inside of a shallow cave, hidden by a thickly wooded area. Her limbs still, twisted and bent in that unnatural way reserved only for the dead. There was much blood. But his eyes, sharp and unwavering in the face of death after all these years, were concentrated now on a particular spot. A smearing of red on her lips that stretched to her pale cheek. Spidering out the right side as if a _Higanbana_ had sprouted from her stilled blue mouth. Morbidly fitting considering they were near a river, he thought. 

     A sudden palpitation from her chest had dark understanding pulling at his features and he withdrew a short blade to end the last of her suffering. Saizo brought it to her flesh; just as pale, slicing just as easily under the sharpness, as silken tofu. Simple, clean. 

     Now that she was at rest he reached into one of his many hidden pockets to retrieve a small wooden top. He held it between his thumb and forefinger for a moment, inspecting it one last time. It wasn’t very large or ornate. Stripes of alternating red and blue had begun to fade with wear from its surface. It was carved from relatively light wood and there were obvious nicks he could both see and feel cut into the surface. Proof the child had used it well. 

     Lowering himself onto one knee he placed it to the inside of her small palm with a delicate nature. Something inside of him stirred as he felt her cold hand pressed in his own, and he took a few moments to let that chill seep into him. A form of penance, perhaps. He could choke out some form of apology, but words were never more useless than at a time like this. It would only serve to drape another dark layer of senselessness onto the already haunting scene, and it damn sure wouldn’t make him feel any better.

     He removed her hairpin; a small sakura blossom that would never again see another spring. Then he left. 

 

_____

 

     This day started as many did for Saizo. Following a sleepless night where he counted your breaths and poked an index finger, _ever so gently_ , into various places while you slept to see just how much of a reaction he could elicit without actually waking you. A kiss as light and fleeting as an early winter snowflake on your cheek. 

     He left the room you shared while he could still see his breath billowing and dissipating in the pale moonlight. Though, he wasn’t cold. In fact, the days had become increasingly warm as of late. A good and bad thing for shinobi. People stayed inside at night when it was cold. People hurried home when it was chilly. Now that the temperatures were rising you could find the streets filled with children and drunks longer and later into the evening. A greater chance he could be spotted. 

     He made good time in his travel despite the mountainous terrain. The soil and grass beneath his feet gradually began to soak in the warmth of the day, the heat creeping up his limbs like a root draws water. When the sun was at its highest and there were signs he was approaching the river he sat on a large moss-covered rock and quickly ate a piece of dried fish. When he looked to the trees he saw Utsusemi among the gathering of crows, and she flew to perch herself on his shoulder. He didn’t say anything to her, just held a bit of fish for her to peck at and then stroked a finger over her feathers for a while in comfortable silence. 

     Normally he hated traveling so far for a mission, but it had been a while since he’d done anything for the village and even he could only keep them off his ass for so long. He stretched the ache in his legs underneath the sunlight, but only for a moment, knowing it was foolish to remain on the ground or in one place for too long. 

     The dried fish finished and his familiar flapping her black wings, making herself hidden in the distant branches once more, Saizo took to the trees knowing it would be the most opportune way to remain undetected now that he was so close to the village. As he made his way he often thought of you, the way you looked before he left. Peaceful, hair strewn about the bedding in that sleepily careless fashion. The taste of your dango, but more often than not, _the taste of you._ And the following weeks he would curse for keeping you apart. 

 

_____

 

     “How many.” 

     “Four, that we are aware of.” 

     “That’s not very many…” Saizo cast his eyes to the side with a slight huff of annoyance. 

     “One is more than enough, I should think,” the lord barked in reply, obviously unamused with Saizo’s lack of concern regarding the situation at hand. He snapped a fan open, fluttering his wrist back and forth in order to cool his fat face. 

     There was warm tea poured into an ornate cup and set in front of Saizo. He did not drink. 

     “Excuse me milord, but, the number has grown to nine presently,” a retainer corrected from the side of the room. 

     “And you’re sure they didn’t simply elope with some young lovers from this village or the next,” Saizo inquired, face fallen back to that serious, unreadable mask.

     “Of course not. But that does not mean my suspicions are misguided, either.” His voice had picked up a haughty tone, and Saizo imagined how fulfilling it would be to reach out across the tatami between them and twist his neck to silence. 

     “I’m simply making sure my time is not wasted on an impasse to discovering some village girl died in the woods gathering nuts.” 

     The retainer cleared his throat to announce himself once more. “What milord means to inform you of, is, while the reported missing did contained some of marrying age, a few were of the…younger variety, as well.” 

_Children_. When Kiyohiro had dropped down from the eaves like a harbinger bat hailing from cave _pain-in-the-ass_ , he had told him the mission involved missing _women_. That he’d been paid to sniff out the perpetrators and when they were uncovered…to do what the Lord Assassin does best. So this fat faced lord could get his daughter married off without interruption. And that would be just fine with Saizo. The minds of women and the men who would take them were easy enough to figure out. But _children_ …that was not discussed. 

     “Are you up to the task?” The Lord asked. However, his tone made it clear it was not a question but a challenge to Saizo’s skill, and a scowl deepened the lines in his face as he watched the tea in front of Saizo grow cold and untouched. 

     “It’s going to cost you extra,” Saizo replied. 

     The Lord slammed his fan down in anger. “Iga already agreed to and accepted our payment for this!” 

     Saizo smirked, unflinching where he sat on the tatami. “By all means, try your luck with someone else and risk your daughters marriage squashed under your own greedy heel when her intended finds out you can’t even control criminal activity in your own village. They’ve told you who I am. My reputation?” Saizo stood up from the floor, not bothering to be dismissed. “ _I am Iga,_ as far as you’re concerned _._ And I say it’s going to cost you more.” 

 

_____

 

     He has a room just below, instead, Saizo lay with his back to the cold hard roof of the inn. His arms are stretched up above him, reaching for the moonlight that illuminates his widespread fingers, but the outline of his arm seems to wave and blur. _Flex, fist, flex, fist—_ he opens and closes while inspecting them with narrowing eyes. The backdrop of glittering stars dotting the wash of dark blue sky makes the rest of the world feel hundreds of miles away. If only that were true. Even when the drunken footsteps and the giggles echoing from the mouths of dark alleys fades away, when he no longer smells the fragrant wafts of vegetables and spices cooked over flame, when all else has gone silent; there is still the wind. It shakes the leaves though he can no longer hear their rustle, curling around him like smoke, inculpatory and condemning whispers snaking along every knotting whorl. Reminding him. 

     If his fists clenched any tighter he’d draw blood. And in the end, the will to avoid any more of that coppery stench wins out and sees him unfurl his fingers from his roughened palm one by one. And then all he can manage is a self-deprecating laugh, but even that doesn’t come out right. His jaw is too clenched, his throat is too tight and dry, his chest too heavy. The thin air pushes out with a strangled sound, like the whisper of the dead. Drawn out and haunting. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say it was the precursor to a sob. A lifeless wheeze, which makes him want to laugh all the more, but squeezing water out of rocks felt easier than getting his lungs to produce air enough for that right now. 

     Two days, maybe three. His fever would alleviate, his minor wounds would mend enough. Two days, and he could be back to the Saizo that people waited for. Until then, he’d lay here and submit to the spinning, spinning, spinning, _spinning_ , spinning.… 

 

_____

 

 

     He stepped through the _noren_ and there was not a soul in sight to greet him. Empty tables and dusty streams of sunlight bursting from gaps in the wood and windows to illuminate barren tables of the restaurant. Had he been anyone else, the old boards beneath his feet would have creaked out his presence. _But this was Saizo_. Iga’s best ninja. And when he walked the world heard silence. 

     Still, perhaps on intuition alone, an old woman poked her head from the meager kitchen like a mushroom pops from the forest floor, a sour look on her wrinkled face as she sized him up. 

     “Sake?” She asked. 

     “Food.” 

     “I don’t have much, but-“ 

     “Dango.” Saizo sat down. 

     “Just as well, the rice has gone cold anyway. No customers to keep it warm for these days.” 

     Saizo heard a rustling in the kitchen when she disappeared, and a moment later she came shuffling over with a plate full of skewers and a cup of hot tea. 

     “About that-“ 

     The old woman held up a hand to stop him. “I know, I know…can’t pay?” 

     “I have money,” Saizo corrected, pulling a handsome pouch from his pocket as proof. 

     She sat down across from him, and Saizo looked in her milky eyes as she inspected the contents, a mixture of awe and disgust forming from her wrinkles. 

     “Awful lot of money for a mere traveling merchant…” She clicked her tongue incredulously. 

     “As I was saying,” Saizo ignored her and continued, “why are there no customers?”

     The old woman sighed, her hunched back lifting and sinking with the labor of the breath. “Lots of women turning up missing around here. Some little ones, too…Oh, I hate to think of it.” Her face hardened. “Lords not doing anything about it, either. No matter how much we complain or beg. He’s got his family locked safe in his castle, why should he care what happens to us peasants, hm?” She sighed. “I’m not far from the village out here, but even so, people don’t want to make the trip with the way things are right now. Can’t say I blame ‘em.” 

     “Hm.” Saizo finished chewing and picked up a second skewer. They weren’t as good as his Little Lady’s. They weren’t really _good_ at all _._ But they were something, even if that something was only a reminder that he had something to look forward to when he got home. 

     They sat together in silence for a moment. 

     “How much do I owe you?” Saizo asked. 

     “Don’t bother, just finish your food and go. I had my suspicions when you first walked in…I may be old but I’m not a fool. You’re no ordinary traveler, and I have no need of your blood money,” she pushed his coin back towards him as she said so. 

_Prideful idiot._ Old woman or not, he wasn’t about to force someone to take his money. Especially not for shit dango. Saizo smiled politely. “Have it your way.” 

     “And don’t come back,” she stood up from the table to take her leave, “I’ve had enough of your kind and seen enough bloodshed for a hundred lifetimes. I’ve had enough of the war and fighting you bring.” 

     Saizo chuckled fondly. And when the old woman questioned in offense, he took a calm breath to explain. “It’s just that you sound a lot like someone I know.” 

     “Hmph. No ordinary someone,” the old woman saw through him. “And you still continue to kill, despite how she feels?” 

     “Mn,” Saizo took his time chewing the last of the dango, letting the skewer fall onto the plate with the rest. “I get paid to kill,” he admitted, waving the coin pouch as a reminder before tucking it back into his pocket. The corners of his mouth lifted to a sinister grin, a dangerous glint in his sharp eyes. He was a raging fire in a field of dry straw. The face of a killer. “And a lot of men deserve to die.” 

 

_____

 

 

     “Genji!” She smiled as she called his name. The afternoon sun had not yet washed over Saizo’s face before her voice greeted his first step onto the street. 

     Pinpricks. That’s what he felt as she waved to him from the front of her family’s Inn, where he was keeping a bed for the duration of his mission. Pinpricks of nostalgia, something eerie? He wasn’t quite sure. Because so much reminded him of _you._ And the way, so, so long ago, your tiny mouth split your cheeks in a grin so blindingly bright he had forgotten all about the cherry blossoms above your heads and the warm, salty sorrow of that day. He wished he could have known you while you were like this. Skinny little limbs peeking out from a pink kimono you were still growing into. Surrounded by friends, _maybe he would have been one of them?_ Could he have been? 

     Playing in the streets and occasionally blowing warm breaths on your tiny cupped hands to stave off the winter chill that still lingered in the air. But it was better this way. Just like this girl smiling before him, eyes wide and innocent and glimmering the way they did for the purely good. Better his Little Lady spent most of her childhood in the light. Before his shadow bled over her path and crept up to her feet. It was better this way because death was with him, always. Whether or not he was the one to call it. Hanging like a sharp naked blade over his outstretched neck. 

     “Staying out of the woods today, hm?” 

     “Like I promised!” She replied proudly, practically skipping up to his side and nearly crashing into a woman and her produce in the process. 

     Saizo tilted his head with a small smile. Her name was Miki, and she had become a familiar annoyance in his life here. 

     Of course, he couldn’t mention this out loud. Or the way her darting up and over was just like a koi fish in a pond, mouth open wide as it surges through the water for a mosquito thrashing on the glassy surface. But would that make him the mosquito, then? He felt more like a field mouse to an owl with the way she gripped her tiny claws into his sleeve. 

     He keeps his placid smile and pinches his brows above his nose facetiously. “Good. Perhaps you’re really not as dumb as you look, then.” 

     “Hey! _You-_ “ 

     Saizo’s hand ruffling her hair cut her off, and the kinako mochi he offered her next kept that silence. For a brief moment, anyway. With her right cheek puffed full of mochi she gave him as stern a look as she could muster, chewing the gripes, then turning her attention back to her friends and the crude circle they had fashioned in the street out of twigs, like a ring. 

     “Argh…You really messed my hair,” she whispered to Saizo with a grumble, struggling to right her sakura pin she must have spent a great deal of the morning placing. 

     It was not lost on Saizo the way her big brown eyes then, flustered as her fingers on her scalp, darted to her friend from across the twigs. A boy with a cheeky grin that reminded him so much of Sasuke. A boy around her age; which meant that while _she_ was looking at _him_ , _his_ focus was still fixed on the ground, preoccupied with whether or not his wooden top would knock his friends outside of their makeshift ring. _Not quite yet, little lady,_ he thought lightly. _And one day soon, this will be quite the opposite._ An amused chuckle handsomely danced up Saizo’s chest while he watched them, unnoticed by anyone but himself. When she still continued to fuss at her head, he deftly reached over and righted her pin for her with a sigh. 

     “Aren’t you turning into quite the fussy little lady. Careful now, most boys don’t like a girl who’s so prissy,” Saizo teased, using his elbow to lightly nudge her towards the boy. So she knew that _he_ knew. 

     “Genjiiii,” she sulked, drawing out the last of his name with a quiet and annoyed huff befitting to a chagrin child in the face of his nettling. 

     She used all of her strength to push his arm away, and Saizo mused at just how little of that strength there was, if there was any, despite how tough she acted. _She couldn’t knock over a reed in a windstorm_ , he smirked, and if he wanted to he could counter her push with two fingers alone. But he was Genji; the gentle traveling peddler of medicinal herbs. Not Saizo, the Lord Assassin. So he pretended she had strength, let her knock his arm away playfully, and laughed again as she righted herself. Amused by how easily she flustered and how honest her feelings were showing. Pink dusting her cheeks which sat doughy on her face. So obvious. Yet the boys continued to wind and toss their tops, laughing and cheering and oblivious. 

     “Not quite an apple yet.” 

     “What are you saying now?” Miki groaned in confusion. 

     No, not an apple. That was reserved for the inhuman shade only one person could achieve. “Strawberry,” Saizo decided. 

     “What are you talking about strawberries for?” 

     “Who knows?” Saizo smirked, poking at her cheek with his finger. 

     “Cut it out!” Her little hands slapped to her face with lightning speed and she turned away, but a hint of a giggle she was unable to keep down burst like a bubble into the air.

  
     “Hm, fine then. And I was just going to tell you there were crumbs on your face…”

     “What?! _Where?_ ” 

     Mortified, she swiped her flattened palms against her mouth until Saizo, finally ready to show mercy, stopped laughing to reassure her. Another girl, already passing the boys in height, noticed the commotion and took slow dainty steps over to the circle to watch with the others. 

_Clink-tink-tink_. The tops knocked against each other in staccato. Three at once continued to dance together among the snapped twigs with their few spared leaves still attached and saluting proudly, like a banner flag of the zealous childhood. One top began to slow, then another, and in the end, one spun just a hair longer than the others and its owner cheered in delectation, scooping it up from his feet while his friends pat his back in shared victory. 

     “Were you good at kenkagoma too, Genji? I bet you played a lot.” 

     Saizo hadn’t even realized he had been watching so intently, and her voice startled him out of his reverie. The sky above was as brilliant and bright in cascading hues, as blue as the outstretched wing of a kingfisher, and the sun was high enough to begin to draw shadows from feet. Couples walked towards shops together. A cart carrying bolts of cloth rolled by, pulled by sweaty hands and wheels creaking over any rock larger than an umeboshi in its path. 

     Men with sweat beading their brows and canes clutched in ghost-white knuckles carried bundles of straw on their backs and firewood to their homes to counter against the last string of winter nights. Women with rouge-painted faces ogled and crooned over various items, schmoozing merchants to haggle a price. A normal, boring, plain, village. Plain as any other.

     Saizo watched daily life in an unremarkable place happen all around him, hating the fact that he could never see it as such. If anyone knew just how often and easily even the thinnest veil of innocence can disguise the tainted and decaying within, it was Saizo as Genji. He’d watch this same scene play out before him time and time again. All his life. Faces contorting with their grasp for power. Voices once a source of warmth and acceptance turning to cold steel against your skin. Secrets collected and tucked away in provocative darkness. And what are we but a collection of our secrets? Slowly mounting over time, scattered and buried or used as a platform for deceptions. 

     This place would be no different. And he was exhausted, having to be the one to lift that dark shroud knowing what lay underneath. A sea of reflective stares like mirrors against a black ink, numerous and glinting as the water-polished stones of a riverbed catching in the moonlight. Eventually, all secrets are revealed. They come wriggling, breaking through even the toughest earth like worms in the rain. _And the rain always comes_. No one knows that better than Saizo. 

     There’s a tug on the sleeve of his kimono. “Hey, are you listening?” 

     “Hm?” 

     “I saaid, did you play kenkagoma when you were little, too?” 

     Saizo does his best to lighten his voice, but there’s no mistaking the extra weight now pressing on his features. “Afraid I’ve never played, no,” he answers honestly, forcing a friendly smile from his pressed lips. 

     “Never?! You are so weird, Genji…” 

     “If you say so,” he says. _You have no idea_ , he thinks. 

     “Try it! You can use mine.” 

     Miki presented her wooden top to him as if it was some grand antique heirloom in her hands. Knicks and all. In a circle she showed him how to twist the rope around the base in a tight coil, whipping her hand out from her torso in a tossing motion to demonstrate before handing it to him. 

     “Here, look, once you have it wound like that you just make sure you hold the end of the rope here. Got it? Okay, then you just toss it. But make sure you hold on to the rope, okay? That’s important. And toss it like I showed you. Kinda like when you skip a rock in the water. But easier, my cousin can’t _ever_ skip rocks in the water when we go down to the river but she beats me all the time with tops. It’s pretty easy. Wait, you _have_ skipped rocks on water before, right?” 

     “Do you want me to toss this thing or are you going to insist on talking about rocks?” Saizo replied flatly. 

     “Whoops! Okay, I’m ready,” she replied, taking a step back to watch with wide eyes. 

     A few others release their tops onto the dirt along with Saizo, but it’s clear as a toy launched by an adult that his is spinning much faster. 

_Tink-tink-clink-tink._ One top collides with Saizo’s, sending it careening towards the barrier of sticks where it topples over on impact. Two more continue their dance around, and its almost hypnotic the way they glide over and around little pebbles, wobbling and jutting back and forth as they weave trails. Another top slows, stutters and falls to its side in defeat before being scooped up and rewound for another go. _Tink_. The last two tops come together once again, and the boys are making fists of excitement and leaning in further and further. Some get on their knees for an even closer look. 

     The last top falls and Saizo’s keeps on spinning and spinning round. She has a grasp on his sleeve still, Saizo notices, and she too is transfixed by the sound and the swerving. All of them hold their breath, anxious to see just how long it can keep going. A few are young enough to suspend belief, dreaming of a world now where this top just keeps on spinning forever and ever, rolling and bouncing for eternity over great mountains and frozen lakes translucent enough you can see the fish scatter from its path in fear. Some whisper in wonder to each other that this has to be the longest a top has ever spun in the history of history. 

     Saizo watches with a blank stare, the red and blue painted lines of the wooden top. It moves so fast that the colors appear to expand and mix together, blurring to distort the once obvious line where one ends and another begins. 

     There’s another excited tug on his sleeve, and he lets himself be honest that it isn’t bothersome. That maybe, if he were ever allowed to live as people did, he might then be willing to admit he wouldn’t hate the idea of a daughter— _or children_ —at all. There was a time when Saizo could separate his feelings from the attachments people made to Genji. It was simply a game, and he was always the one holding the rope in the end. It was clear, once, where his emotions and actions as Genji ended and where Saizo began, and he could remove himself from it all when a mission ended. When he removed his mask. It was as simple as that to be free. 

     Not anymore, however. Like the colors on the top, he felt the line between Saizo and Genji blurring more and more. Could he say there was a line at all? Spinning, spinning, spinning. Red and Blue. Right and Wrong. Clean and Tainted. Light and Shadow. Unlike the toys in the ring, it seemed his life was always picking up speed. Faster and faster it swirled still, causing his ideals and past and present and everything he is to converge and bleed into one another. He’s waist deep in the hazy, murky aftermath, and he cant even tell who he is anymore. Sorting fact from fiction now would be like trying to put water back into the river once it's flowed into the ocean. Impossible. 

     A chilly breeze coasts through the street as they watch the top finally fall. There’s a wave of awe and exhausted gasps when it happens, everyone gulping air to compensate for holding their breath. It doesn’t last long before the electric buzz around the circle dies down and another round of tops begins again. 

     It’s already much later than he would like it to be. Utsusemi caws obnoxiously in the distance, no doubt annoyed by the time he’s wasted. _Damn bird_. It’s shrill enough to command his attention, but he doesn’t get more than a few steps down the street before he feels a tug. He doesn’t have to turn around to know who it is. So he doesn’t. 

     “What?” 

     “Are you leaving again?” 

     “For a bit.” 

     “For work stuff again?” 

     “Unless you know of a way these herbs will pick and deliver themselves.” 

     “Can I go?”

     “No.” 

     “And you’ll be back?” 

     “Yep.” 

     “When?” 

     “When I’m back.” 

     “You were really good at kenkagoma. I knew it. I knew you would be.” 

     Saizo turned on his heel now to face her, a look of comical exasperation as he removed her clutched hand from his person like you’d remove a mouse from the clutches of an alleycat. “Is that what we felt was so important to say to me, then? I really need to be going.” 

     “Mmhm. _Well_ …also, I want you to take this.” Her voice is shy, a mousy wisp blown fast over the syllables. 

     Standing there, she holds her arm out to him. A wooden top with red and blue stripes creates a divide between two lingering hands, and Saizo forgets to conceal his true shock for a moment as he accepts it. His eyes round in surprise but he recovers quickly, his cutting features melding into an incredulous expression. 

     “And what, exactly, am I to do with this?” 

     “Whatever you want. It’s yours now, keep it.” 

     Saizo wanted to say several things. First and foremost, that he had no need or want of a child’s toy. _Particularly_ one that was being actively used by said child up until a crows shit ago. However, the reply forefront on his tongue was, “Why?” 

     “You said you didn’t have one as a kid… I dunno, I felt sad… I thought maybe now, if you have one, you can play with it.” 

     “Uh-huh.” 

     “And you can play with me.” 

_Not gonna happen…_

     “Plus, this way you don’t forget about me when you use it,” she continued, rocking on the balls of her feet a bit like it would help the words come out. 

     “……” 

     “ _Plus_! I wanted a new one anyway, and now mom and dad will have to get me one.” 

     A smile grows on Saizo’s face and he tucks the top away in his pocket. “You know, pretending to give someone a gift just so you can get a better gift is not only selfish, but rude.” Saizo clicks his tongue in disapproval. “And worst of all, it’s not very clever. Spilling your plans when I can just reveal your tricks to your parents…I guess I take back what I said earlier. You really _are_ as dumb as you look.” 

     “Wait! Then give it back!” She reaches for him, laughing, but he dodges before she can even finish her sentence. 

     Saizo is already several feet ahead of her now, having weaved through the crowd of foot traffic surrounding them. “Grabby and greedy, too.”

     “Come onnn, give it back!” She chases him down the road, always just shy of grasping his kimono before he darts in another direction, leaving her panting in the dust. 

     Saizo pops up on the other side of her, sending her jumping at the sudden shock of his voice. “Trying to take something you’ve already given… Tsk. That’s called stealing, you know. I’ll have to add that to the list as well, _right under prissy_. Perhaps I’ll pick up a pen and some paper while I’m out? At this rate I’m going to need it if I have to remember all of these horrible things I’m going to tell your parents.” 

     And as suddenly as he appeared, he’s headed up the road again. This time, she doesn’t try to follow him as he walks. 

     “Don’t forget, I’m helping cook dinner tonight! It’s going to be reeeally good, so you better be back before dark!” Miki shouts to his back. 

     Saizo glances back at her briefly, one last acknowledgment before continuing down the street. 

     “Promise!” She calls. And his figure gets smaller and smaller. He doesn’t turn around or wave, but somehow she knows he heard her. Until he disappears from her view, she stands there in the street and watches him walk away. 

 

 

_____

 

 

     This is what he hated the most. It had taken half a day longer than he anticipated to find the place, and now he was stuck crawling under the foundation like a filthy rat in order to hear information on their hideaway. The footsteps creaking in the wood above his head shift the boards and send sprinklings of musty scented soil straight into his face. This was the type of work for a lesser shinobi, laying among the mouse droppings and beetles in the dank darkness. He was going to have quite a few words when he got back to Iga. 

     Above him, the men continued to talk. Saizo was just about to make his way out when something caught his ear. 

     “So they caught another one?” 

     “Yeah, found her out in the woods near the village yesterday.”

     Saizo’s throat cinches despite himself. In the darkness, his eyes narrow. It couldn’t be… _she wouldn’t be that fucking stupid_. And yet, every instinct wringing his insides of held emotions like an old rag, told him otherwise. 

     “Another young one?” 

     “I heard she was a bit of a fighter, though.” 

“Those never last long with the boss…” 

     They begin to make their way out, and Saizo draws his short blade. When the first one steps out, he slices through both heels in a flash, severing the flesh and taught muscle and sending the man’s body falling forward into the dirt with a _thud_. 

     “What the fuck was that?!” One of the others yells, steps frozen in the entryway as he watches his comrade writhe and scream in pain. Blood pouring from his heels into the dirt to create a dark crimson mud. 

     From beneath the veranda, Saizo appears with inhuman speed, as if the laws of gravity suspend for one man, shaking the dirt from his silver hair and tugging his clothing back into place. 

_Three more of you, hm?_

     They’ve drawn their blades, but Saizo simply stretches the kink in his neck and takes a step towards them. 

     “You bastard…” One plants his foot, sword pointed. 

     Saizo’s face remains an emotionless wall. _I don’t even need my katana for you._ The cowards don’t get a single swing in before Saizo feels the resistance of steel hitting vital organs. They drop at his feet, blood pooling and leaking into the cracks of the floor, dripping down to where he lay just moments before. He flicks his blade through the air and watches the blood spatter onto their lifeless backs before tucking it away once more. 

     The one in the dirt is still wailing. Saizo grabs the old chipped blade of one of the dead men and slowly proceeds out towards the field. His foot crushes down onto the mans sternum hard enough for a crack, and in the middle of the plea, Saizo dives the worn blade down for a killing blow. 

 

_____

 

_It just had to be the damned rain._

 

 

     Saizo perched himself on a sturdy branch, looking up at the darkening sky. The rain would stop soon, but not soon enough. His thumb flicks, a pleasant and familiar click sounds in the darkness as his blade is released from behind his back. Their little operation has been found, nestled amidst tall cedars and mountain flowers, and the rain won’t stop him this time. 

     The cold drops beat down harder now, masking his steps and pecking at his exposed skin. The chill each drop brings soaks right to his core, he can feel it in his bones but he suppresses the shiver. It’s not as terrible as his irritation, like needles under his flesh, pricking away at him in the darkness. 

     He doesn’t bother to conceal himself. And when he kicks the door down an arson of wooden splinters surges forward into the dimly lit hut. Sword whipping a tight _whoosh_ through the air and splitting several droplets of rain from the leaking roof in the process. They’re sleeping on the floor, some propped up against the wall. Some still awake but clearly drunk. There are many, _but not near enough_. 

     Lightning cracks through the sky and illuminates his figure, making him look every bit as death himself. Some scream. _No, no,_ he thinks with a grin, _I’m just his messenger._ But it’s every bit as frightening, he’s sure, as the hazy blue flashes crackle and spark through the clouds appearing behind his dark frame in the doorway. 

     There’s a flash of red. With swift, practiced movements Saizo’s sword makes a path through every mans throat within striking range, collecting heads and spraying blood like crimson rain across the room. Dotting the horrified faces of the men now stirring at the sound of their companions choking on their own blood. 

     In the chaos his eyes scan and asses from wall to wall. The fever is clouding his mind and weighing his lids but he pushes through, already taking stock of their weapons and headcount. _Pathetic_. He feels the weight of his blade in his hand, runs a thumb along the woven pattern as he’s done a thousand times prior, and flicks his wrist into position. When he spins now he leaves a path of limbs in his wake. Legs, arms, hands, they all sail down to the floor like petals in a spring breeze. 

     To his left a blade swings with the intention to cut him, but Saizo catches the wrist with his left hand, using his force to twist until bone and tendon pop and the blade falls with a heavy clatter. 

     Then—

     “ _Hng_ …” Saizo chokes on his own gasp, his body freezing in the moment. 

     Shit. _Shit_. The rain really had taken more of a toll than he’d anticipated. He’s sluggish, and a wakizashi now presses firmly into his right side. Threatening to dig in deeper. Everything is slow, drowned in the sound of heavy rain pelting the roof. He cocks his chin up. Clenches his teeth to gnash the coppery liquid swirling on his tongue and seeping out between his teeth. From the corner of the ceiling, a dark shadow swoops down to Saizo’s aid, using its talons to claw his attackers eyes with a fierce caw. _Utsusemi_. 

     Saizo removes the blade from his flesh, an iniquitous smile now pulling the corners of his mouth. It’s been a while since an opponent has landed a blow. He thinks back to his days in Iga and his master’s blades, thrown with unforgiving speed and precision, and how it stung like fire when they found their target in him. He was too feverish to feel the hot sting now. 

_Focus_ , he hisses at himself. _Breathe, listen, recalculate, think_ …His stance widens, the ball of his back foot planted firmly into the ground, ready to spring himself forward. Another flash of lightning. Saizo’s underhanded swing splits the stomach of the man in front of him before the tip lodges into the side of the man on his left. He kicks the body off his sword, sending it careening into a wall and using that momentum to spin just in time to slash diagonally across the man approaching behind him. The last one. Saizo watches his opponents hands and the sword they were holding fall as he drops to his knees and collapses lifeless onto the floor in a thick pool of blood. 

_Is that my own heartbeat, so loud_? The fever makes him dizzy, the stench makes it worse. Tripping over a random severed arm he takes a rest against the wall which groans at the mercy of the wind. 

     A navy cloth is pulled from his pocket, and in silence, Saizo stands in a thick layer of cooling blood. He wipes his blade, as silver as his hair and glinting in the rare swatches of white-hot lightning. There’s a cave entrance not far up ahead, and while tucking his katana behind his back Saizo makes his way towards it. He’s not a person who’s ever relied on hope. But if he was, he’d hope he was wrong about what he would find inside. 

 

_____

 

 

     The cold moon floats high above the trees, spreading ethereal blue into the translucent waters of the river at Saizo’s feet. Reeds dance in the night wind and lily pads as large as his head bob up and back in a mutual dance with the current. When he bends down to gather water in his cupped hands he winces, favoring his side only slightly when the wound he harbors screams in protest of his movement. 

     “What.” Saizo’s voice cuts sharply through the quiet. 

     From the shadows a figure appears, dropping down from a hidden branch to land silently in the grass below. Kiyohiro says nothing, he just stares. 

     “If you don’t mind, I’d like to wash this shit off,” Saizo turns his back from the other shinobi and continues to splash icy water up his arms and torso. He’ll never be rid of the smell, and his skin prickles until numb with each chilling rinse, but he continues to wash until he can no longer feel a coating of sticky copper layered upon his skin and armor. 

_Hm, the money, is it?_ Saizo had caught the unmistakable lump of coin tucked in Kiyohiro’s chest, heard the faintest clink when he jumped down from the tree. _My hefty sum for a job well done._ In his own pocket Saizo retrieved an item, taking a look at it one last time before tossing it into the dirt at Kiyohiro’s feet. 

     “Give it to her family,” he says curtly. He needn’t say more than that for his subordinate to understand. 

     After all…the idiot must have gotten nabbed while looking for him when he hadn’t made it back for dinner, he thinks, sinking down to sit at the riverbed. 

     Kiyohiro picks up the hairpin, looking as if he was trying to put together some semblance of words but the sentences weren’t clicking. 

_Don’t_ …Saizo shoots him a severe look. A string of silence followed as Kiyohiro swallows the bits of chopped, confused pity. 

     “There’s another inn not far from here,” Kiyohiro says, eyes glancing in a flash to the wound still weeping on Saizo’s side, “I’ll arrange a room for you.” 

     He bows, then disappears back into the trees. 

     Saizo sinks back into the plush grass, happy to have some silence for the first time in days. 

 

 

_____

 

 

     Brilliant golden hues highlights shadows cast down by the branches of the tree Saizo sat resting under. He’d been zipping from trunk to trunk, pressing fingertips into soil indents, checking snapped twigs and scouting for hints of heavy foot traffic that could be signs of criminal activity. Signs that could point him in the direction of the disappearances and the answers to who was behind them. And now he was resting. The key word here being _was_. And when he popped one lazy eye open he saw the tiny foot shuffles he had been hearing in the leaves belonged to…tiny feet. A young girl attached to them. 

     “What’cha doin out here?” She asked, peering down at him. 

     “Isn’t that what I should be asking you?” Saizo opened his eyes wide in faux astonishment, ever the innocent Genji. 

     “I live around here.” 

     “In the woods?” Saizo replied, incredulous. 

     She shook her head. “No, in the village nearby.” 

     “If you live there then you must know young girls like yourself have been going missing, no? And that it’s dangerous?” 

     “Are you a bad guy?” She took a hesitant step back. 

     Saizo sighed. If all the girls in the village were this dumb, it’s no wonder they were dropping off left and right. Still, he should correct her. 

     “I am a merchant. I was out here gathering herbs. As an adult. For my work. So what brought _you_ out here?” 

     She pointed up to the branch above him, Utsusemi’s wings flapping at the attention. “I followed it here, I was trying to feed it,” she admitted, unfolding her hand to reveal a wriggling worm dotted in soil. 

     Saizo shot his familiar a sharp look, only to get an apologetic caw from the animal. “You won’t get her attention with that just yet.” Dipping into his pocket he pulled a chunk of dried fish until his familiar perched herself on his arm for a nibble. 

     “Whoa!” She exclaimed with pure delight. 

     “You can stroke her feathers if you want, but if she takes one of those little wormy smelling fingers off don’t say I didn’t warn you.” 

     Cautiously, her hand reached out and pet the bird with slow, soft strokes. A beaming grin of elation grew on her face as she did so, for Utsusemi didn’t seem to mind one bit. 

     “My parents own the Inn in town, you don’t have to sleep under a tree.” 

_Wasn’t planning on it._ “Do they? Well, that’s very kind of you. I suppose I could use a few nights rest in a bed, if you have a room to spare.” 

     “Yep! I’ll take you there. My name’s Miki!” 

     “Pleasure to meet you, Miki. I’m Genji.” 

 

_____

 

 

     “Still waiting up for me, hm?” There’s no one around to hear the words he speaks from the rooftop. It’s closer to sunrise than anything, yet the lantern in your room is still burning its lambent orange welcome beacon.

     He’s checked himself so many times it’s to the point of being neurotic, terrified some blood stain has gone unchecked somewhere. Dropping down from the eaves, he creeps silently into his room and slides the door closed behind him. Just as he suspected, you were asleep. A hand and leg jutting haphazardly out from the nest of blankets. There was nothing in this life quite as enticing as those glimpses of soft flesh in the cool night air. Saizo hadn’t made it but a few feet towards you when his eyes were pulled elsewhere. A spot in the corner of the room that had his stomach harden and face fall flat. On the floor near the desk, a spinning top lay wound in its stark white rope. 

     “Saizo…?!” You sat up drowsily. 

     “Woke you, did I?” 

     “No, I was up waiting.” 

     “Liar,” Saizo smiles, dropping down to cup your face in his hands. He’d never be tired of the way your glassy eyes shined brightly for him. The image reflected back in them who he wanted to be, the warmest most tender version of himself. 

    He knew you must be exhausted. His thumb sweeps where dark circles form under your eyes. But now that you’re awake there’s no way he can let you fall back asleep. Not just yet. He sighs inwardly, knowing he’s not much different than a selfish child vying for attention. His body calls for your healing warmth, so he deftly slips his fingers into your robe to seek it out for himself. 

     There’s a mutual moan when his lips envelop yours for a deep kiss. If his soul can be soothed in any single way, it is in this. Your loving hands fixing themselves in his hair, pulling his clothing away from his body and dragging him to join you beneath the sheets. Your want of him only spurs his desires. He can’t control his hands, or the desperate way he stimulates your mouth and sucks on the tip of your sweet tongue. 

     “I missed you so much,” the wet hot confession is a murmur into his bottom lip the first break for air. 

     He never wants to see you cry. But when he pulls back just slightly and catches a tear fall from the corner of your eye, he thinks in these moments it might just be alright. _Silly little thing_. Don’t you know you’re his home, the guiding light on his dark path? He’ll always find his way back to you. 

     “I need to feel more of you,” he admits. 

     Emotion and dread well up like a wad of heavy cloth in his throat. His worst fears causing his hands to shake. Your face no longer rosy and smiling and warm, but still and pale and cold to the touch. It flashes in his minds eye, distorting you into a dead corpse in his arms. On your mouth a familiar spidering of red clamoring for purchase on the cheeks he once kissed pink. Saizo shakes the vision from his mind and feels for your heart. 

_Thump-thump-thump_. It’s there. _Thump-thump_. The beat quickens under his fingertips. The image melts like snow in spring. But he knows he’ll never shake the anxiety that as easy as it is for him to reach out and feel the proof you are alive and well, it could just as easily be taken away from him. 

     “Wha…Saizo?” Your hands find the bandage over his side. 

     “Mn. It’s nothing.” 

     “Are you sure? It looks serious…What if it reopens?” 

     He tries to kiss your worries away, swiping at your bottom lip with his tongue when he does so. “Is that your way of saying you’re willing to do all the work, little lady?” He teases. 

     You nod, not even sparing the beat of a heart to think about it. “I don’t care, I just want to be close to you.” 

     “Well then,” he switches you both, positioning you over his lap while he lays with his back to the floor, “show me just how much you missed me.” 

     He’s hard and ready as he’s ever been, feeling your wet heat pressing against his bare length, and in an effort to distract himself he plays with the soft skin of your thighs and breasts when you begin to grind back and forth. It’s more than he can bear. 

     “Put it in yourself,” he instructs. _I want to see_. 

     “Okay…” 

     You guide his twitching cock to your entrance, but as the tip presses in Saizo roughly pinches your nipples between his fingertips, his smirk making it clear he gets a rise out of your yelp and the way you buck up in shock. 

     “Sahh- _Saizo_!”

     “Hm? Don’t let me distract you. Go on, now, naughty girl. Help me fill you up.” 

     You’re tight, and warm, melting his very existence as you willingly press him inside of you. The feeling a gift he’s not sure he will ever deserve. 

     “ _Ahh…_ ” you still halfway down, struggling to fit him all right away. 

     “Mmn, that’s it, s-slowly,” he whispers his guidance. 

     Normally, he would have played with you much longer before penetrating you. He enjoyed getting you nice and wet, toying with you and teasing you. Building up your desperation until you were practically begging for him to fuck you. But he couldn’t wait, it’s been so long. So he runs the tips of his fingers over his tongue and with calculated swirls and practiced pressure he stimulates your clit until your thighs loosen their grip, opening and pleading to accept him all the way down to the base. 

     “You like that, don’t you.” It isn’t a question. He can feel how wet you are, quivering above him as he slows his movements down, pressing just a bit harder to really stimulate your nerves. 

     “Oh, Saizo...” 

     He grabs each of your hands, lacing his fingers with yours and supporting you, watching your breasts bounce and your torso roll and the mesmerizing way your hips fuck him as you please. 

     Every moan and whimper, every rock of your hips as you use him to bring yourself pleasure, is a bandage on his damaged heart and soul. Being close to you in shared vulnerability like this makes him feel whole again. And when you press him deep inside of your walls he can’t help but let his moans out, either. Nor does he bother to conceal the fervent heat blossoming on his cheeks in plain declaration of just how badly he wants to fuck you. Hard. 

     “Again,” he grips your hips to drive himself inside of you. 

     “Saizo, hahh…s-saizo,” you whine, sweet and desperate. 

     “Again, louder.” More, _more_ …

     You scream his name just as he sits up, curling his fingers into your hair and manipulating the angle to expose the crescent of your neck. Where his lips find purchase to tease your prickling skin and the lobe of your cute ears. It’s here he can envelop himself in that honeyed scent he’s missed so much. His eyes practically roll back in his head at the scent of you. 

     There’s no self-doubt, no anxiety, no icy chill in his bones or memories and regrets driving needles into his heart, stinging with every beat. He is healed now, by your touch. Your shared warmth. When you hold him tight. The way your voice vibrates and quivers as he bounces you mercilessly onto his cock, taking everything you have to give and more. _Selfish, I know, but I need you_ …he thinks. And the way you squirm when he finally releases inside of you, filling you with his newfound hopes and dreams for days to come. 

     Fluttering kisses on your heaving chest as he lays you down beside him, unwilling to pull out of you just yet. He feels your dainty fingers draw lazy circles into his back, wet with perspiration. And he captures your arm to draw your wrist to his lips. Committing to memory the feel of your strong pulse under his kiss. 

     “No rest yet, little lady. We have a lot of days to make up for.” 

 

 

 

_____

 

 

     The afternoon sun covers Saizo like a blanket where he lazily naps on the veranda, drunk on the warmth that sends him into peaceful reverie. 

     “Hm, that’s odd,” he hears you mumble, light steps leaving the room to where he lay. 

     “Mn.” He doesn’t bother opening his eyes. 

     “Have you seen it?” 

     “Seen what, exactly?” 

     “Sasuke and I went into town while you were away and saw they were selling those spinning tops. I was supposed to show him how to play today, but now I can’t find it. I swore I left it right by the desk. You didn’t see one anywhere, did you?” 

     Saizo rolls over, resting his head on his arm with a peaceful yawn that signifies the conversation is over. “Nope. No idea.” 


End file.
